


You Always Hurt The One You Love

by writteninblood



Series: Never the Same [8]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Pining, Protectiveness, Reconciliation, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14041011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninblood/pseuds/writteninblood
Summary: “Well, what is it, Mr. Penn?” Oswald asks, putting down his pen.“Mr. Nygma has returned to Gotham.”





	You Always Hurt The One You Love

**Author's Note:**

> Ed is baaaaack! 
> 
> I had so much fun writing this instalment. I hope you guys enjoy <3
> 
> For Nygmobblepot Week 2018 prompt: “trapped together”

When Oswald wakes up in the morning and sees that Martin isn’t there, he panics, thinking that perhaps the boy just needed a brief respite from his stubborn loneliness before going back to resenting him. Oswald effortlessly slips back into his melancholy mood of the past two weeks. He’s still got ten minutes until his alarm goes off, so he turns it off and wraps the blankets more tightly around himself, not having the will to get up and face the day yet. 

A short while later, when he’s just starting to drift off again, the delicious smell of coffee reaches his nose. He peeks out from under the covers and sees Martin approaching with a breakfast tray. Oswald’s heart soars as he hurriedly sits up. He signs “thank you” and Martin smiles, shyly as he places the tray on the bed in front of Oswald. 

_Are you all right?_ Oswald signs, since Martin seems to be somewhat uncomfortable. He seems even more distressed by the question. He edges a little closer to Oswald. Trying to read what might be the most appropriate action here is very difficult and he wonders how people manage with more than one child. 

In the end he settles on moving over on the bed and asking Martin if he would like to sit with him. Martin nods and climbs up next to him. Oswald gently wraps an arm around his shoulders, not knowing what to say. Martin saves him the trouble by picking at one of the croissants on the tray, and together they eat breakfast in a fragile silence. 

*

Later that day, after he’s overseen the installation of some new booth seats in the club (the old ones had been ruined by knife slashes), Oswald finds Martin sitting in the study. He has his pencil in his mouth and is staring down thoughtfully at the puzzle book in front of him—Sudoku. He knows it’s one of the puzzle books given to him by Ed. He also knows it’s not for children. 

Oswald comes to stand opposite the desk and Martin looks up. 

_Is it all right if I talk?_ Oswald signs. 

Martin nods. 

Oswald goes around to the other side of the desk and sits where Edward always used to. Martin turns slightly to face him. 

“First, is there anything you want to ask me?”

Immediately, Martin starts signing animatedly. Oswald has a feeling he knows what Martin is going to ask first.

_Why did you kill her?_

Even though he knew it was coming, it still gives him an awful feeling of stinging shame. “I was jealous. I was rash and impulsive and cowardly. I didn’t mean anything I said to Ed about not regretting it. I was just upset.”

_Why?_

“Because I thought that Ed and Lee were together.”

 _You were jealous again._ It’s not a question. Oswald nods. In the spirit of their new honest relationship, Oswald decides to plough ahead and tell Martin the truth at the heart of everything.

“I’m in love with him.”

Martin does the last thing he expects, and rolls his eyes. Taken aback, Oswald raises his eyebrows and asks, “what?”

_I’m mute, Dad, not blind. I know._

Oswald’s mouth simply hangs open. 

And then it all clicks.

The truce dinner, Ed coming over to teach, the movie nights…

“You planned everything. You were _trying_ to get us together…”

 _For a criminal mastermind you can be quite slow sometimes_. Martin looks amused for the first time in weeks.

“Watch it.” Oswald half-heartedly reprimands. Now that he doesn’t have to wait a long time for short messages on notepads, he feels like he’s just now getting to know the real Martin. And it turns out he’s a lot more like Oswald than he’d like. 

Martin has the sense to look sheepish. 

A thought occurs to Oswald and it makes his heartbeat accelerate. “If you were trying to set us up, does that mean Ed feels—”

Martin shakes his head. _I don’t know. He’s a lot harder to read than you are._

The brief spark of hope Oswald had felt abruptly dies before fully forming. He takes a deep breath and shakes the thought from his mind. After everything, it’s a ludicrous notion to entertain. 

He thinks about how he told Edward to kill him, and how what he heard must have made Martin feel. To hear one’s own father seemingly willing to throw his own life away—Oswald closes his eyes. To think he’d so carelessly used such language after what his father had told him about his family history...

He won’t do it again. Martin has already experienced enough trauma for one lifetime.

“I am sorry for everything I’ve done. I’m sorry I’ve hurt and disappointed you.”

Martin purses his lips and nods seriously.

“I hope you know I will never abandon you, Martin. Those things I said, I—”

Martin waves his hands and gestures for Oswald to stop. _I know_ , he signs. 

“I want to bring Edward back for you.” Oswald says decisively. “But I don’t know how.”

_It’s okay. He’ll be back soon. He will come and see me._

“Are you sure? He seemed quite adamant about not coming back.”

 _He’ll come back. I have his cane._ Martin smiles deviously. 

Oswald can’t help but smile back, impressed. “You are definitely my son.”

*

A further two weeks passes, and there is no sign of Edward. Oswald can tell Martin’s confidence in Edward returning to him is starting to waver. He goes through numerous puzzle books, no doubt in an attempt to impress Edward, when he comes back. _If_ he comes back.

It’s mid afternoon on Friday, shortly before Martin is due to return home from school, and Oswald is sitting in his office reviewing his security. It had been entirely too easy for Gallo and his mob to break into the Lounge and Oswald has been meaning to go over the systems to see what could be done better for a while. 

There’s a soft knock at the door and upon being given permission to enter, Mr. Penn pokes his head around it, edging inside slowly as if unsure of whether he’s willing to commit to being fully in the room. 

“Forgive me for disturbing you Mr. Cobblepot, but I have some new information that I believe you’d like to be made aware of.”

“Well, what is it?” Oswald asks, putting down his pen.

“Mr. Nygma has returned to Gotham.”

How interesting Mr. Penn would think to tell him this, when Oswald hadn’t had any tabs put on the man. Mr. Penn must have taken the initiative himself, based on what he’d witnessed between Oswald, Martin and Edward. Quite a good call of judgement—he can tell that Mr. Penn is nervous that he might have overstepped, having used Oswald’s resources to acquire this information.

“When did he get back?”

Mr. Penn’s shoulders sag immediately in relief. “Yesterday evening, sir. On a flight arriving from Budapest.”

Oswald’s eyes widen. That’s something to ponder: that Edward still went to Budapest as per Oswald’s suggestion. 

“Thank you, Mr. Penn.” Oswald says, a clear dismissal. His assistant nods and turns to go. “Oh and Mr. Penn?”

The rigidity returns to the man’s shoulders as he pivots to face Oswald again.

“Next time we go over the pay roll, remind me to give you a raise.”

Mr. Penn’s eyes go comically wide and he smiles in clear astonishment. Oswald wonders if this is actually the first time he’s seen the man smile.

“Oh thank you, Mr. Penguin—sir! Thank you!” And with that he makes a hasty exit as if worried his good luck will run out.

Oswald smiles to himself as he returns his attention to the plans in front of him.

Edward came back. Martin will be so happy.

*

The following week, when Edward still fails to show up, despite Martin’s many attempts to reach out, Martin asks Oswald if they can have a movie night, just the two of them. Oswald is eager to cheer Martin up, so of course he agrees. 

_I’ll get the snacks and I’ll be down in a minute._ Martin signs. Oswald nods and heads downstairs, taking a seat and helping himself to a glass of whiskey from the decanter on the table. 

It takes Oswald a full fifteen minutes before he starts to get suspicious. He doesn’t remember closing the door when he entered the basement. It’s not without trepidation that he goes back up the stairs and tries the door, not entirely surprised to find it locked. He’d felt a coil of dread growing in his gut when Martin failed to materialise with the snacks. He knows what Martin is planning, and inwardly applauds him for completing the first part of his manipulation. Oswald completely and utterly fell into his literal trap. And while he is petrified of seeing Edward again, he is looking forward to seeing his face when he realises what Martin has done.

He takes another sip of whiskey and smirks to himself, trying to ignore the feelings of terror and anticipation that have taken root within him. 

*

After a further twenty minutes the door opens and from his nervously buzzed place, laying down on the couch, he sees green descend the stairs in the corner of his eye. Oswald has got his hands behind his head, leaning on the arm of the sofa, and is affecting a bored attitude. The moment he minutely turns his head to look at Edward, the man immediately zeros in on the movement, processing what he’s seeing with a dawning horror. His face really is quite comical and Oswald has to try not to laugh at Edward’s impending meltdown. 

The door clicks shut behind him, and Oswald can’t hear it being locked but he knows it is. Edward runs back up to the door, grabbing the doorknob and pointlessly shaking it as he pounds on the door with his other fist. 

“ _Martin! Let me out of here immediately! Martin! Open this door!_ ” Edward yells.

He isn’t carrying his cane which means Martin was smart enough to withhold it—Oswald doesn’t doubt that one of its features probably could have helped him escape the room. Edward carries on wailing and hammering on the door for several more minutes. When the racket blessedly ceases, Oswald sighs and mutters, “you done?”

Edward stays in his place facing the door, resolutely ignoring Oswald. He sighs again. “He’s not going to let us out of here until we talk. Surely you know that’s his point here.”

Still Edward doesn’t move or say anything. Oswald sits up and peers over the top of the couch. “We’re going to be in here for a long time if you don’t come down here and let me talk.”

“There is _nothing_ you can say to me that I will want to hear.” He spits venomously. “ _Nothing._ ”

“Maybe not,” Oswald concedes, shocked by the seething hatred in his voice. “But you may as well get it over with. The sooner you do that, the sooner you can leave.”

Edward slowly turns to face him, expression cold and closed off. He stands there a while longer, clearly fighting an inner battle. He eventually begins to slowly descend the stairs, looking as though he’s making his way down a grand staircase for a ball. He approaches the sofa and sits at the other end of it—exactly where they both sat for the first movie night, the gaping chasm of space between them once again. 

Oswald looks at Ed, and is struck dumb by his handsomeness, having been deprived of it for several weeks. He pouts his lips in thought and looks around awkwardly, everything he wanted to say gone out of his head entirely.

“How was your trip?” He blurts out.

Edward looks at him incredulously. Oswald barely restrains himself from smacking himself in the head. Why does he always do this when he has something important to say to Ed? 

He takes a deep, composing breath, thinking of Martin. He must focus on the important task at hand. He needs to get Edward to come back for Martin. He jumps right in the deep end and meets Edward’s eyes.

“There aren’t enough words to convey how sorry I am for everything I’ve done to you. You are one of the last people in the world I would want to cause any pain, yet you are the one person I keep hurting. You know what they say…” he trails off, knowing he’s skirting too close to something they shut the door on weeks ago. Possibly years. Edward’s eyes widen fractionally but otherwise he doesn’t move.

“I’ve been a fool,” Oswald slowly continues. Edward surprisingly doesn’t raise his eyebrows or make a sarcastic remark about the gross understatement in his choice of words. “I misinterpreted your relationship with Lee, but that doesn’t excuse how I reacted. I want you to know that I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I know you will likely never forgive me, and I don’t blame you, but I want you to try to find a way to be in the same place as me again—for Martin. He really struggled while you were away, thinking you weren’t coming back. I don’t want to see him unhappy like that again. He deserves to have your friendship, as you do his.”

Edward’s eyes bore into his, analysing, seeking.

“Lee was right.” His heart is pounding but he determinedly carries on. “I have changed. I think it’s been gradually coming on for a while now, but Martin was the one who made me see. I’m not saying I’m suddenly going to live a clean, crime-free life now, because I’m not going to deny who I am. But I can still do that, and be a father that Martin can be proud of.”

Edward is sitting so still it looks like he’s been frozen again.

“I’m never going to stop trying to earn your forgiveness, Ed. I don’t deserve it, and there’s no reason you should give it, but I will always endeavour to one day be someone you can trust again.”

Oswald pauses in case Edward wants to say something, but he doesn’t. His heart is still thumping loudly in his ears, and his emotions are threatening to spill over, but he won’t let them. He doesn’t want Ed to think he’s gunning for his pity, and trying to restore their good relationship through manipulation. He’s going to do everything right this time.

“I can’t promise I won’t be around if you do choose to resume your visits with Martin. But I will try to stay out of your way. All I ask is that you consider being part of his life again. He needs you.”

_I need you._

Oswald has said all he can say; he just hopes it’s enough. Edward stares for a beat longer, expression still infuriatingly inscrutable, before nodding curtly and standing up. It seems that’s the only acknowledgement Oswald’s speech is going to get. Oswald stares down at his lap, willing the tears and the shaking he’s withholding not to start until Edward has left the basement. 

He waits for the pounding and the yelling to begin again, but it doesn’t come. Curiously, he looks up to the top of the stairs in time to see Edward retrieving something from his pocket before…picking the lock.

Wait a minute. If Edward had a lock pick this entire time, why didn’t he use it to escape as soon as he realised he was locked inside?

Because he wanted to hear what Oswald had to say.

All of the noise he made was just a performance. Of course it was. It’s Ed. 

Tears roll down Oswald’s cheeks as the tension drains out of him. It had been terrifying, being so honest with Edward, and taking responsibility for everything. But it was the right thing to do, and he does feel as though the dark clouds in his mind have parted somewhat, allowing him to see clearer. To know that Edward had given him the chance to speak gives him hope that he will come back for Martin, and that makes him feel rather wonderful. 

Oswald pours himself the last of the whiskey from the decanter, trying to get a hold on his nerves. As he takes the first calming sip, Martin appears by his side on the sofa. He looks a little worried. 

“ _You_ are in a lot of trouble young man.” Oswald mutters, putting the glass on the table and fixing him with a stern look.

 _Really?_ Martin signs. He’s starting to look upset.

“No, not really. Come here, you evil genius.” He holds out his arms, and grinning, Martin approaches him for a hug. For the first time in a long while, Oswald feels something akin to joy.

*

Oswald must have done something right, because Martin negotiates the return of both lessons and movie night without much difficulty. 

The first movie night after Oswald’s speech in the same room is awkward in the extreme. Oswald and Edward both spend the start of it studiously avoiding looking each other in the eye. Oswald doesn’t miss the way Martin gets increasingly frustrated because he can only communicate with one of them at a time, and only carry separate conversations. Oswald wishes he could break the thick tension between himself and Edward, but he’s worried about it turning into a some sort of conflict. And silence, at least, is preferable to that. He doesn’t want Martin to witness any more animosity between them, but this tense atmosphere isn’t good for him either. 

And so, Oswald is relieved when Mr. Penn comes down to the basement, saying there’s someone upstairs wanting to see him. He knows Mr. Penn wouldn’t interrupt him during his down time if it wasn’t important. He glances at Edward, who finally meets his eyes, and he reads worry there. He guesses the someone upstairs is probably Jim Gordon, and whatever Edward did in Europe has probably caught up to him. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Oswald says, putting his suit jacket back on and taking his cane from its place leaning against the side of the sofa. He follows Mr. Penn upstairs and out of the basement.

It is indeed Jim Gordon who’s waiting for him, giving him a small nod of acknowledgement as Oswald approaches. Mr. Penn leaves them to it. 

“Whatever this is Jim, it had better be good. You’ve interrupted the family time I was spending with my son.”

Jim gives him a look very similar to the ones Edward used to give him when he first witnessed Oswald talking about Martin, or interacting with him. He does enjoy constantly defying people’s expectations, and seeing the bewilderment on their faces.

“I came to ask you if you’ve seen Edward Nygma recently, or know of his current whereabouts.” He looks Oswald up and down, as if his suit might give him a clue as to where Edward is. Oswald is going to have to play this very carefully.

“What makes you think I’ve seen that oversized leprechaun?”

“This was the last place he was seen before he took off for Europe. We know he’s back in the country, we have the records from Homeland Security. If anyone knows where he is, it’s you.”

“Europe, you say? How lovely for him. I hear Paris is very pleasant this time of year.”

Jim steps closer into Oswald’s personal space, as he is so often wont to do. “This isn’t a joke, Oswald. Scotland Yard has been in touch with the GCPD over a series of thefts in several major cities across Europe. If you know where he is, it would be in your interest to tell me.”

Jim Gordon really is the most extraordinarily vexing man. “Is that a _threat_ , Commissioner? As I recall it’s _you_ who is indebted to me. I owe you nothing.”

“I think you know where he is. And when I find him, I’m going to come after you too, for obstruction of justice. When he goes down, you’ll go down with him. Are you really willing to go back to Arkham and leave your son without a father?”

Something inside Oswald snaps, and he closes the remaining space between them. “Careful Jim. That’s my _family_ you’re talking about. I always assist you where I am able, but if you attempt to come between me and my boy, I will tear down your precious GCPD brick by brick.” He enunciates GCPD with as much disgust as he can muster.

It’s a stand-off, and Oswald won’t be the first to back down. The hatred brewing between himself and Jim is close to reaching the point of no return. The age of fragile alliances is over. 

Eventually Jim takes a step back, as much as admitting defeat. 

“Thank you for your time, Penguin.” Jim says perfunctorily, turning to leave.

“Stay away from my family, Jim.” He calls, just before Jim storms through the doors. He doesn’t need to know who Oswald is including under the umbrella of family.

Oswald sneers as he turns away and heads back to the basement, even though Jim can’t see him. The man did always have a knack for getting under his skin, leaving an unpleasant and persistent itch.

Edward and Martin are having a conversation when he returns. He smiles at them both as he retakes his seat. Martin raises his eyebrows quizzically. 

“Just a visit from Jim Gordon,” Oswald says, waving his hand dismissively, as though it hardly matters. “The man is such a pest, honestly.”

Martin shrugs and returns his attention to the movie. Oswald chances a glance at Edward, who’s already looking at him. He doesn’t know how to interpret the look. Nervous? Grateful? Vulnerable? Oswald feels as though it could be all of the above. He tries another smile, attempting to make it reassuring. Edward suddenly looks away as though burned, and Oswald doesn’t attempt to meet his eyes again for the rest of the movie. 

After Martin goes to bed (not bothering with his usual affectionate goodnight, clearly keen to get away from the unpleasant atmosphere), Edward remains sitting silently on his end of the sofa. 

“I’d go out the back exit of the Lounge if I were you,” Oswald says. “I imagine they probably have people watching the front, but aren’t suspicious enough yet to have eyes on the back alley.” 

Edward furrows his brows, deep in thought, looking almost distressed. He suddenly moves closer to Oswald on the sofa. Oswald inhales shakily. Edward opens his mouth, but frowns and closes it again. He then minutely shakes his head, as if to clear his thoughts. 

“Goodnight, Oswald.”

It’s the first time Edward has spoken without any trace of enmity since that fateful night before Edward left for Europe. Oswald manages to stop himself smiling like a love-struck idiot. 

“Goodnight, Ed. Please be careful.”

That vulnerable look is back, but Edward quickly shuts it down. He pushes his glasses up his nose and stands up abruptly, and in several long strides is out of the basement.

Oswald stares at the now vacated couch, pondering Edward’s lack of hostility. It’s not much, but maybe now, finally, they can _really_ start again.


End file.
